Luke...
Luke was a "rescue", a dog that we found at the local Milford CT Animal Shelter. Luke got his name from the folks at the Milford Animal Shelter, and it fit.
In October of 2000, Luke developed a problem with his back. We rushed him to the doggie hospital, by which time he was totally paralyzed from mid-back down. After letting the vets try to figure out what was wrong, we had surgery done on him to remove some blood clots that were compressing his spine. The hope was that once these clots were removed that he would regain use of his hind legs. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Even though he was able to move his rear legs slightly, he could not consistently stand or walk.
So, we bought him a cart to move around. This one came from Eddie's Wheels of Greenfield, MA. We (and Luke!) were quite pleased with it.
Above photos courtesy of Steve Williams
On December 16th 2006, a sunny warmish Saturday afternoon, we brought Luke out into the backyard and put him in his cart so he could walk around. Suddenly, he became quiet and stopped. We removed him from the cart and laid him down, and noticed he seemed to be falling asleep. Soon thereafter, Luke stopped breathing and died of apparent heart failure. We rushed him to the vet but by that time he had passed. While we miss Luke with all our heart we are glad that we were able to give him an extended life and that he died a natural death.
Following is something I wrote back in October 2000, when we feared we would have to euthanize Luke due to his injuries. Though the circumstances were different, the sentiments are the same. The amount of joy Luke brought to us was immeasurable.
10/24/02
I wanted to take a moment to update you on what's happening with Luke.
As you're no doubt aware, we brought Luke to the Stratford emergency vet clinic last Sunday. It appeared to us that he was losing control of the back end of his body, like the ass was "drunk." He was able to slowly walk to the car, but he couldn't jump in; by the time we tried to get him into the clinic he was completely paralyzed mid-back down and couldn't move, we had to carry him in with a cart.
The emergency clinic ran x-rays and didn't find any hip dysplasia, nor did they find any back problems. The vet on-staff suggested a blood clot or slipped disc was compressing the spine, and suggested we bring it to a specialist; that specialist turned out to be Cheshire Veterinary Hospital.
Thea brought Luke to CVH Monday morning, and they examined him. Their diagnosis agreed with Stratford's: possible blood clot or disc (or possible tumor) compressing the spine. Regardless of what was causing it, they were certain it was a compressed spine. Their suggestion was to do a CAT scan or "myelogram" which consisted of injecting radioactive dye into the spinal column and using X-rays to find where the compression was. Since there were no cats immediately available for the scan, we asked them to do the myelogram (sorry, cheap humor there...)
Actually, not only was the myelogram less expensive ($250 versus $600) it would produce quicker answers since they did not have specialists on hand to review the CAT and it would have to be sent to PA for review. However, the myelogram is a surgical procedure and has its own inherent risks. Because of the time delay associated with a CAT (and the lower costs as well) we asked them to go with the myelogram ASAP. This was done on Tuesday afternoon.
Tuesday evening we got the news: there was definitely a compression in the spine in his lower back area. There was no way to know what was causing the compression, the only way to find out being back surgery. The only alternatives to the surgery was to accept him as-is and take him home, or to euthanize him. We asked them to schedule the surgery as quickly as possible. due to prior commitments. The surgeon was not able to get to him until Thursday, and even then it would cause a lot of other less-priority items to be re-scheduled. We said "go!"
Thursday evening we got the news of the results, and that was they found some blood clots in the area of the blockage between two vertebra. These clots were putting pressure on the spine and caused his paralysis. They took them all out, buttoned him up (he's got ugly stitches up his back, and no hair there). Now we wait.
So, what's the prognosis? The answer we always get is "guarded." As of today, 5 days later, he has not shown a significant improvement. When queried, the doctor said we should give him 1-2 weeks to show improvement, to show that there is some non-permanent damage, that he has a chance to stand and walk on his own. Right now he is still completely paralyzed from the mid-back down; he has no control of his lower back, tail, or hind legs. He's learned to drag his butt around with his front paws to get around, but he has no control of his bowel or bladder, and is usually dirty. When the doc takes a tool and squeezes the hell out of one of his rear toes, he reacts; she says that it shows he feels "deep pain" and that it's encouraging. However, it's muscle control that he really needs to live a good life.
She told me that in successful cases such as this, it may take "up to" two weeks to start seeing progress. Therefore, we are continuing on track to see what happens. In the meantime, he's eating and drinking, so they're removed the IV giving him fluids. However, the urinary catheter was so uncomfortable for him she also removed that, but it means that he soils himself constantly and needs consistent cleaning.
The really, really hard part is that from mid-back forward, he's all Luke: completely alert, with all mental faculties, the dog we all know and love. He's confused and frustrated as hell that he can't move around like he wants, and I'm sure he's lonely as he always is when we're not around, but if you were to see him laying down you'd never know anything was wrong. It's only when he tries to get up as you arrive that you notice the disability.
We're beginning to face some hard choices. There are a number of scenario we're facing, and we're talking about what we're going to do.
First, of course, we'd love to have him show progress, show that he's repairing the nerve damage and could recover at least partially. Given that, of course we'll continue until he's at a point we can care for him.
However, if he does not show any improvement, we're looking at hard choices: either euthanize him or take him home and care for him ourselves indefinitely.
The latter choice is something we can not likely do. Luke is an 80-pound dog, and if he cannot walk it means we'll have to consistently move him in and out, and since he does not have bladder or bowel control it means constant cleaning. Thea and I are working every day from 8-5, and I think it would be inhumane to let a dog wallow in his filth for all day. It's not like he's a 15-pound Chihuahua, and we could make a little cart for him to move around in. He's a previously very active 80-pounder. Considering that I'm away from home a lot it would be unfair to Thea, and I believe cruel to the dog.
Again, though, he's not suffering other than being frustrated and scared. It's amazing how alert he is! It's painful to think that we may have to put down a dog because it will be inconvenient to us as humans. In fact, it breaks my heart to think that way.
Frankly, I don't know what the "right" decision is. I want to do what's best for Luke, not what's best for us. Is it more cruel to take a life because that life will not be as you (or he) would "want", or is it more cruel to keep him alive for life's sake, and our companionship because we'll miss him and that he may "want" to stay alive? I don't know, and those questions are rhetorical; it's something that we as human adults have to decide.
By the same token, his general quality of life, despite not being in physical pain, is poor right now. Yes, he's still alive, and there's nothing that we can medically do for him right now except care for him. However, he's in a caged stall all day, he sees us once a day for about 30 minutes, he hasn't been outside for over a week, and all he gets to do is mull over his frustration and wonder where the hell we are. Isn't this just as cruel?
Are we doing the right thing? Will we be doing the right thing? What is the right thing to do?
Regardless, we're going to wait for at least two weeks post-surgery. In that time if we see ANY glimmer that he's repairing, then I think there's no question we'll continue watching and waiting. The hospital is costing us $50-60 per day to care for him, but I look at it as money well-invested towards success. If, in the end, it is not successful then I think we can go to our graves knowing we really did all we could.
However, I must say that we are both deeply disappointed in the results so far. I know it's likely unrealistic, but we both expected to see him at least moving SOMETHING the day after the surgery; after all it happened so quickly, why couldn't it be fixed so quickly? By now, we expected to see a lot more. So, I think we've both tried to steel ourselves to the hard decision we may have to make within the next 9-10 days.
If we have to make that hard choice, I have a plan for the way I'd like to do it. I don't want him to die on a cold steel table with fluorescent lights all around, alone. If we have to do this, I want us to be there, and I want it to be a beautiful Fall afternoon like today, sunny and bright. I want to take him outside in the yard, surrounded by his family. Thea and I will be there, and we invite you as well. We will lie him down in the grass, rub him and pat him, let him know how we feel, speak to him and calm him down so that he knows he's not alone. I will then ask the doctor to inject him and we will watch him go to sleep.
I will then ask that he be cremated, and we will spread his ashes around the back yard of 125 Snow Apple Lane, the place where he spent the good years of his life. We will toast his departure with our traditional shots of Jagermeister, and then we'll get stoned drunk.
Please don't feel that you must participate in this; I only invite you because I thought you'd like to. I don't expect this will be a very easy thing to do; in fact, simply putting it down in words is itself extremely painful.
I'm sorry to seem so fatalistic. I may be jumping the gun on this, but I'm doing the best I can to deal with my personal disappointment and sadness, and I'd rather prepare myself than have it all come crashing down later.
No responses needed.
GA